


Are You Alright?

by Clankit



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Repetition, Should look it over but screw it, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, i guess, i wrote this at 12 am, sad thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clankit/pseuds/Clankit
Summary: Nate’s soulwords are simple, understandable. On his right wrist, ‘are you alright?’ is written in the same basic font that all soulwords have. He’s always appreciated that his words weren’t something obscure or random, and developed the habit of imagining what will cause those words to be said to him. Will he trip? Will he fall out of a tree?





	Are You Alright?

**Author's Note:**

> Soulmate AU where you have your soulmate's first words to you on your wrist. Because I cannot stop writing soulmate AUs, apparently.

Nate’s soulwords are simple, understandable. On his right wrist, ‘are you alright?’ is written in the same basic font that all soulwords have. He’s always appreciated that his words weren’t something obscure or random, and developed the habit of imagining what will cause those words to be said to him. Will he trip? Will he fall out of a tree?

The first time those are someone’s first words to him is the day he meets his 4th grade teacher. He had been walking to class by himself, because he is now an official _big boy_ , when the classroom door suddenly bursts open and misses his head by a mere couple inches. “Are you alright?” His (presumed) teacher asked. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s not you, is it?” Nate had asked, horrified at the prospect his new teacher Mrs. Jacobi was his soulmate. She’d understandably been confused, but that was a relief to Nate, as it met she was definitely  _ not _ his soulmate.

Fate was merciful for the following years of his life, as he reached the ripe age of 20 with only two people saying his soulwords to him as their first greeting. Both times his heart beat faster and he barely managed not to stutter as he asked, “Is it you?” Both times, they frowned, and Nate’s heart did a mournful sigh, but he didn’t lose hope. He was, however, focusing on making sure his reply to the words ‘Are you alright’ was unique. He didn’t want to meet his soulmate and find out the words on their wrist were ‘Yes.’ 

It’s halfway through his sophomore year of college when he hears those words in a new voice again. His arms are weighed down with two textbooks, a cup of coffee, and too many papers to even count. Oversleeping has no benefits. It didn’t help his already bad mood when he tripped on nothing as he rushed across the school grounds, papers spilling over the cement and hot coffee burning his hand. Nate began to cry a little.

“Are you alright?” Someone in front of him had asked. Nate, in a pure fit of despair, forgot his rule.

“No. I’m not.”

The person sighed, and bent down into Nate’s point of view. Despite his current predicament, Nate couldn’t help noticing the woman ahead of him was very pretty. “I’m Nora, and I know this is a really personal question to ask, but are your soulwords ‘are you alright?’ Because I’m getting pretty sick of having to ask someone new if they’re my soulmate every time someone says ‘no.’”

Nate stared at her. “Fuck. That was exactly what I wanted to avoid.”

They started dating two months later, because even though they were supposed to be soulmates, that didn’t necessarily guarantee that they  _ were. _ But they liked each other, and so they dated, and so five years later they got engaged, and two months later they got married. The ceremony was rushed, not a wedding, just getting everything officiated and all that, because three months later Nate was off to the war.

Sometimes, Nate would trace his soulwords through his armor. Each night, he responded to the question. Usually it was a ‘sure’ or ‘maybe’ but near the end of his tour it was almost always ‘no.’ 

Finally, Nate got to go back to Nora, back to Shaun, back to his life. Back home. Finally, at least for a short while, the answer was ‘yes.’

Nate tries hard to forget the day the bombs fell, but he can’t. He remembers every second. The taste of coffee in his mouth ( _ fuck _ , how long had it been since he’d had coffee?). The plans to go to the park. The fear that started low in his belly the moment Codsworth had called him into the living room. The terror as they raced to the vault, and they  _ made _ it, they were safe, they were safe, they were safe.

Or so he’d thought.

For the first couple days in the Commonwealth, there’s one big thought in his head.  _ What if I’d picked up Shaun? What if I had carried him to the Vault? I should’ve carried him to the Vault, not Nora. I should’ve been the one to enter a cryo chamber with him.  _ I  _ should’ve been the one who got shot, not Nora. It should’ve been me. _

_ I should be dead. _

Nate admits that he’s being dramatic, but he deserves it. His soulmate his dead, his son has been kidnapped, and the world he knew is in ruins. He is definitely, most certainly, not alright.

So that’s what  _ really _ hurts when he arrives in Goodneighbor. Nick is by his side, so he’s not too worried when a shitstain of a man comes up and starts bothering him. Nate has a wall now, has something to hide behind, has something to keep him safe. He’s not alright, but this man doesn’t know that.

His facade crumbles a little when the man gets  stabbed in front of him, but he quickly hardens his gaze when the ghoul turns to him. Whoever this man is, he’s fearless enough to murder someone in front of a total newcomer, and that’s not the best sign for Nate.

“Are you alright?” 

Nate frowns. “No.”

The ghoul seems taken back a little. “You’re not?”

“No. You can’t be them. I already met them. It isn’t fair.  _ It’s not fucking fair _ ,” Nate spits, venom in his words. His voice catches at the end, a sob stuck in his throat.

The ghoul’s face twists in confusion, though after several long moments his gaze softens until it’s almost gentle. “Ah. You have my words on your wrist,” he says, low enough that the gathering crowd around them can’t hear. Nate doesn’t care about them, though, and his fingers are itching to be holding a gun, to have a sense of security and control. He’s furious, knowing that on this  _ stranger’s _ arm ‘no’ is written, just as it was on Nora’s.

He doesn’t draw his gun. He doesn’t scowl. He doesn’t even cry, although several tears slip out when Nate isn’t paying attention, because he touches his eyelids and ended up with wet fingertips. Opens his eyes. Manages a tiny smile. “No. I’m not alright.”

 

 

 


End file.
